


Arse

by wanderingsmith



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-31 23:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13985973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingsmith/pseuds/wanderingsmith
Summary: To say that Q was tired was ridiculous.  To say he was short-tempered was an understatement.  Eve rather suspected that M was as aware as she was that their preternaturally calm Quartermaster was getting dangerously close to being as volatile as an angry 00.





	Arse

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the toys, I play with 'em.
> 
> I've had any number of 'ideas' appear in this fandom.. yet not one got itself to the feeling of being at posting stage. So to heck with it. half-arsed it goes up :)

It had been three days of ops reaching guidance stage seemingly back to back, half of them with 00s who all seemed bent on getting in as much trouble as they could. And the amount of trouble double-ohs *could* find, on a *good* day, was inconceivable.

To say that Q was tired was ridiculous. To say he was short-tempered was an understatement. Eve rather suspected that M was as aware as she was that their preternaturally calm Quartermaster was getting dangerously close to being as volatile as an angry 00, and that that was the reason they’d been standing in Q-branch watching the man handle non-critical situations for the last couple of hours.

Although calling any situation Bond was involved in ‘non-critical‘ meant the man hadn’t actually started interacting with it. Because once he did...

“You get that tight arse of yours out of that damned deathtrap of a room, 007! You’ve everything you need. I’m monitoring the data transmission and will have it all in *seconds*.” She could see that he was *trying*, valiantly at that, to stick to the flat, calm, soothing tone he usually used on the comms, but she could also see the muscles twitching in Q’s jaw from 20 feet away.

And unfortunately, Bond’s smirk was clear in his tone, “Been looking at my arse have you, Quartermaster? Last transfer at 95%: almost done, no use risking any-”

Q suddenly gave a soundless snarl, splitting his attention to the map of heat signatures rapidly approaching Bond’s red dot, the data stream, and the path of the evac team, finally yelling wordlessly as he let go the keyboard to pull at his hair just once before going back to stamping at keys, “Get out of there NOW or I will bloody well fly over there and put you over my fucking KNEE, Bond!!”

The sudden burst of laughter that came through the Q-branch speakers sent Eve’s eyebrows flying up, unable to picture Bond’s face as he guffawed so *honestly*.

“Anything for you, dear,” Eve’s eyes narrowed at the complete lack of sarcasm that line should have been coated in after that laugh. From anyone else, she would have called that *tenderness*- “Which direction do you want me?”

“Hallway to your right and don’t dally,” Eve’s gaze locked on the Quartermaster, not quite willing to believe that professional calm. Could he really not have heard- “There are a lot of people moving very quickly all around you.”

Bond’s red dot jogged along the building’s floorplan on the screen, the bastard’s voice barely winded as he teased, “You know, if you don’t *like* tight, I’ve heard of this thing called lube-” The number of snorts and giggles that broke out around her drowned Eve’s snicker as she decided she was going to get Bond a bulk tub of KY for Christmas.

“Shut it. Turn-” a handful of mixed-caliber shots rang too loud for comfort through the speakers, “-left and take that first door. There are people coming down the corridor behind you. Fine: on your own knees then and I can entertain myself whichever way the mood takes me.”

It took a heartbeat before she actually absorbed Q’s drop-dead flat words. Trying to keep herself quiet by biting her forearm, Eve was distracted by the sudden mad cackles that jerked her attention to the man who’d been standing next to her a moment ago, staring in almost-disbelief as Mallory bent over, arms wrapped around his ribs as he almost howled with laughter.

Not that she could blame him. *She* had enough reason to find the image amusing, she could imagine how it rang for Bond’s boss.

The sound of a sibilant swear from Bond was followed by a metal door slamming shut and a just slightly less casual tone, “...shit- Bad plan, dear, I can hear a hell of a lot of people in that stairwell.”

Although the situation was hardly severe, yet, by Bond standards, still, Eve straightened, attention sharp on the heat signatures near Bond, aware that M had got himself under control as well.

“Then you’d best run faster while- Stop! Large window to your right. Darling.”

“Ah yes, lovely cliff view; wish you were here.” The cheesy narrator voice was interrupted by the tinkling crash of glass, which was followed by indistinct shouts in the background and more shots.

“Satellite imagery show no rocks below. Why don’t you go jump in that lake and cool yourself off, 007.”

“As you command, Sir.” There were a few moments of whistle-y static after what amounted to a purr before the signal cut off.

The sudden quiet was heavy, as though the Quartermaster’s tiredness had expanded out like a cloud to weigh down everyone’s ears.

Until Q himself suddenly took a loud deep breath and blew it out, slowly rotating his shoulders. Then others in the room started to shift at their desks and walk around and Eve strolled over to the young man still muttering under his breath as he stretched. 

“So.”

Q glanced at her, eyes drooping and looking rather like a ton of bricks had just landed on him.

Eve raised her brows, years at MI6 silencing the slightest of guilty thoughts about interrogating an exhausted man, “Spanking, ‘darling’?”

She watched Q’s eyes widen and a snort shake him that actually looked painful, in his tired state, before he sneered, bare slick of humour surviving behind his eyes, “Oh please, Moneypenny. Everyone that has had to say more than two words to that man has wanted to spank him.”

Eve shrugged, unable to deny it, “Too true. He’d break anyone’s hand that tried it, though,” she smirked, “Whereas he offered himself up to you. With witnesses. On record.” She raised a hand before he could retort, “Go home, Q. You’re barely staying upright. Give your braincells a chance to regenerate before he lands and comes strolling in slinging every comeback he’s thought of on the flight back.”

Q glared half-heartedly, though toward his desk rather than Eve, “And bringing back exactly *none* of his tech in functional order, again.”

Eve bit her lip to refrain from pointing out a recently discussed form of punishment, “..You don’t think you can save the earpiece?”

He snorted tiredly, “Mickeals is working on a waterproof version but physics are being stubborn. I’m thinking I should just surgically implant the actual mic/speaker part with wifi-chargeable nano-circuitry. He’d still ‘lose’ the easy to waterproof receiver/transmitter unit, but...”

“stop. Go home. Sleep. Buy a fresh tube of lube unless you want me to leave some on your desk-”

“Moneypenny!!”

**Author's Note:**

> I was hoping to add more to it.. but it was just moldering in the WIP file without attracting any further words, so..


End file.
